


Painkillers Only Put Me In The Twilight

by orphan_account



Category: K-pop, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: AKA Teacher Yoongi, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Teachers, Angst with a Happy Ending, Depression, Disturbing Themes, Drug Use, Drugs, Emotional Healing, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Heavy Angst, M/M, Past Character Death, REALISTIC DEPICTION OF SEX ADDICTION, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sex Addiction, Sexual Violence, Stalker, Suicidal Thoughts, Yoongi Is A Good Fucking Guy, none of that sex addict porn shit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-18
Updated: 2016-08-18
Packaged: 2018-07-25 23:32:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7551412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jimin knew he'd never be happy again. He wasn't meant to be. And that's why it didn't matter that he's sex addict. It didn't matter that he'd lost everything that made him happy and it just kept getting worse. </p><p>Because if you aren't made to feel happiness, you're entitled at least feel pleasure.</p><p>But something is changing, something that makes him think that perhaps he's willing to try. And to hope, because maybe he could be happy if it's with Min Yoongi.</p><p> <br/>Title - Kendrick Lamar's "Alright" from To Pimp A Butterfly</p>
            </blockquote>





	Painkillers Only Put Me In The Twilight

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like it's lowkey disrespectful to quote Kendrick Lamar in this fic because this fic is honestly depraved in every way possible, but I also really feel that - while he probably didn't intend it that way - that line really represents the emotional conflict of this fic. So please forgive me! 
> 
> ANYWAY. I was really bright and shiny and innocent when I started plotting this story, and then as time went by and the story matured... well, I must say this is about as dark as it gets. I don't think I've read any fics that have gone this far so I am mildly ashamed of myself. sorry guys for the bullshit you're about to embark on.
> 
> ALSO, I'm not too sure about my writing chops, but I know at the very least that I'm descriptive aka when I say rape/noncon I mean it. PLEASE TAKE THE WARNINGS SERIOUSLY. its really really dark and its not going to be happy until the very end (at which time, I promise a very happy end with all loose ends tied). 
> 
> well, here we go. don't say I didn't warn you (jk I love you all and i promise the angst will be worth the happy end)

Sweat dripped down his chest as the man thrust in and out of him mercilessly. He didn't make a sound. The man didn't touch or speak to him, and he didn't touch or talk to the man either. The only sounds were the lewd smacking of skin again skin and the greasy groans ripping quietly from above his head. His breathing was ragged but hushed because anything louder would be too intimate. He didn't want intimacy with this person. He wanted the pleasure, the orgasm and the heat, and then he wanted to go home and drink until he passed out.

 

Finally the simmering warmth deep in his abdomen burst, causing him to hang his head and squeeze his eyes shut as he cummed on the bed, a pathetic spurt of white against the faded floral comforter. For a moment he desperately trembled in the little surge of warmth that tingled throughout his body, forgetting the man above him, forgetting the musky hotel that he was in. But the high left as quickly as it came, no more than a slight haze, and he was left to wait as the man thumped against his ass. It now hurt, now that there was no pleasure in the action, and he wanted to leave.

 

But it wasn't too long before the man emptied himself inside him with a weak cry and pulled out. He couldn't help but feel disgusted. This guy was probably just as damaged too, in some way or another, but in that moment he was just some stranger who moaned into him without knowing his name. Who used his body without knowing his name and cummed inside of him without knowing his name. Some stranger who belonged to that dirty motel room, who belonged to the dusty bed and the rough sheets. Who belonged in Jimin's memory as just another faceless person who had taken more than he had received in return.

 

He pulled on his clothing over his sticky body and left as quickly as he could.

 

 

 

Jimin wasn't meant to be happy. He, like everyone else in the world, had pursued happiness and the fleeting dreams of childhood, but they never came to fruition. The dreams he had expressed to his friends were simply impossible. He couldn't find it in himself to be bitter about it either. He had cried enough, wished enough to know that the life he was given to live was not the one he had asked for. A life that constantly let him down and fucked him over. But it simply fucked him over just as well as he fucked himself over. From tragedy to fuck up, his life was an eternal loop of bitter endings and endless mourning. Though eventually he had realized there was nothing there for him, he couldn't off himself either and be done with it because of his responsibilities to his brother. He knew how it felt to lose parents, they both knew, and he wouldn't leave his brother now when he was the only one left to protect him. 

 

So instead, he had slowly sunk into the lowest of the low, allowing himself indulgence in every depravity that helped him escape. Sex, alcohol, drugs. Anything to satisfy the physical cravings for that animalistic gratification. Because if you can't be happy, then are you not at least entitled to pleasure? 

 

And that is how Jimin had found himself in bedroom after bedroom, motel room after motel room, night after night. Found himself buried in the smells, sounds, and sensations of sex, buried in hot flesh and hot breath alike, buried in moans of pleasure that did not give rise to any emotional pleasure. He was sunken into feelings of both apathy and depression that only lessened in the few seconds of orgasm. And each hit felt less and less as time progressed. The pleasure was dry and fleeting and every time he was cheated a little bit more.

 

Eventually the growing emptiness was numbed by vodka and weed, medicine for the wound that continually stretched open wider and wider. But these painkillers only left him in only a twilight. It was still sex, sex that would never feel as good as it used to, that he craved. He would never feel the explosion of white across his vision, the shaking of his limbs, the tingling of every nerve in his body again, the warmth that told him he was loved. Instead, he was left a desperate addict who prayed for a hit that was as mind numbingly incredible as the first. He was becoming deadened, and that hit was just a pipe dream.

 

He kissed his brother's head when he came home and pulled the covers up to his chin. Jimin gazed for a moment as his soft sleeping face. There was forgiveness in that sleeping face that did not resemble the one in waking. Every night he looked at him when he returned home. He just had to know that he was okay, that he was breathing and peaceful before he'd pathetically surrender to a bottle of cheap liquor. That would be his peace tonight.

 

 

 

During the day Jimin waited on tables at a small diner. His parents had left enough money for them to keep their little townhouse, but any other costs had to come from his own wallet. He was grateful, however. At least, out of all his problems, homelessness wasn't one of them. He was a hard worker, despite what one might expect from an alcoholic sex addict. Jimin put aside whatever troubled him the best he could for the few hours that he worked, even if that included putting aside his aching head during the morning shifts.

 

"Sweetie, can I talk to you for a bit?" 

 

Her loud voice earned a noticeable wince. Jimin turned around stiffly from where he was refilling the napkin holders. "Oh, hi. Sorry Ms. Yu, you scared me," he lied. "Uh, sure. What's wrong?"

 

She just nodded her head gently towards her little office, and he had to bite back a sigh as he anticipated the upcoming ass chewing he'd get for showing up to work hungover. It wasn't exactly unusual that he'd show up to work looking like post vodka binge shit, but usually he could play it off well enough.

 

Ms. Yu shut the door behind her quietly as Jimin sat down on the little wooden chair positioned in the corner for visitors. The office was very cramped, with only enough room for a small computer desk shoved into a corner and a few filing cabinets. It smelled a little bit like cigarettes and some floral air freshener. His stomach clenched slightly from nervousness and he looked down at his hands, trying to seem a picture of submission. 

 

"Are you doing okay?"

 

Her voice was soft and concerned, and Jimin looked up in surprise. Not the ass chewing he was expecting. "I'm okay, Ms. Yu. Why?"

 

She sighed and sunk into chair at the computer desk, swiveling it to face him. For a moment she stared hard into his eyes, attempting to look deeper, and Jimin squirmed internally. "I've never seen you in the morning where you aren't hungover. You can cover up the bags under your eyes, but honey, I am forty-eight years old. I've been around the block once or twice. I know what a hangover looks like, and I never seem to see you sober." Her words were reprimanding, but the woman looked tired and mostly disappointed, the creases of her eyebrows slightly clenched over eyes that were soft and knowing. 

 

He returned to looking down at his lap, unsure of what to say. She had yelled at him for this once before, had threatened his job, but he didn't know how to counter this almost understand voice that she was using. This was new territory, and silence seemed to be the best way to cope with it.

 

"You know you can talk to me? Right?" the older woman asked, leaning forward. "Sweetie, I can tell there's something wrong. I know I give you a hard time, but I also care about you a lot, okay? I just want to know what's going on, so I can help you," she touched his chin pulling his eyes up to look at her.

 

"Why do you care?"

 

He didn't ask harshly. It wasn't an attempt to shrug her off or attack her. He was asking sincerely, because why would she care? What was the point? 

 

There was a pause where she simply looked into his eyes, trying to convey something. She was willing Jimin to open himself to her, but he couldn't. His life was on a downward spiral, but that spiral was not supposed to converge with the little compartment of his life that existed at work. He couldn't go there, because his pathetic surrender to failure and depression was something that couldn't exist in his work life. He had to be a separate person here from the one who hungrily sought frantic, unfeeling sex and drank himself until he passed out. Who slept on the couch next to empty liquor bottles while his brother silently readied and sent himself off to school in the morning, alone.

 

That separate persona - the person that he truly was, away from all the addictions and depression - was something he needed to live. He needed to be that  _boy_ that worked desperately to support his little brother and himself. Who loved his job and had an earnest heart; that character was heroic. A martyr of sorts that Jimin could feel oddly proud to be, because that martyr was someone who was simply good. At work he could be that martyr (nobody else noticed his hangovers) and he could just serve people their coffee and sandwiches with a tired smile, and to them he was a saint. A sweet boy whose cards turned out foul, but laughed and worked despite it. Not a boy who thought only about money, liquor, and sex. Not a boy who barely thought about his brother anymore because it was all he could do to pay bills at this point, let alone be a caring guardian.

 

"I care because you're a good kid, Jimin," Ms. Yu answered looking at him sincerely. "I know it's hard for you honey, I do, and I just want to help you."

 

He smiled bitterly. She didn't know him, she didn't know that he was just a fucking slut. A fucking alcoholic slut who'd gladly fuck a married man if given the chance. She only knew of martyr Jimin, and she hadn't a hint of the lowlife that he really was. But if that's what she thought of him as he wasn't going to dissuade her.

 

"I-," he struggled to find a response that would please her. A small part of him actually wanted to come clean to her - not the slut part, but at least the alcoholism and shit of a guardian that he was turning out to be. She seemed to understand at surface level at least that.

 

She leaned over to her desk before he could speak and pulled out a picture to hand to him. He took it gingerly.

 

"That's my husband," she explained softly, pursing her lips. "He was an alcoholic. Died in a car accident five years ago." She took a heavy breath and looked down, deep in thought. "I can understand, Jimin, I really can," she brought her head up to look at him, "but most importantly I can understand why you need to sober up. People in your life need you, and you can't just give up on yourself."

 

Oh, how close to home that hit. Briefly he pondered whether she could read minds. Ms. Yu, mindreader. Sounded like a cheap gag.

 

Unwillingly he felt a wetness come to his eyes. Not because of her story or her concern, but because the sheer patheticness of the situation. Here he was, the adult resolution to a young child Jimin who had dreamt of being a famous dancer, who excitedly chattered about the universities he might attend and the venues he'd one day perform in.  _Young Jimin who pinky promised that he'd marry his best friend._ He was a pathetic resolution to that wishful child, because he was nothing more than a high school dropout who hadn't danced in years, and was now a friendless sex addicted alcoholic.

 

He felt a hot, angry tear spill over. Why did his mind always have to remind him of Taehyung? Of that stupid promise they'd made? Of the biggest fuck up of his life? He might jump on as many dicks he could, down as many bottles of vodka as possible, and he still couldn't escape that hateful little voice that always reminisced in the back of his head. It taunted him with the promises he broke, the friendship he ruined, and most of all with Taehyung's crying face when he told him that he never wanted to see him again. The hole he left still ached. The years that past, the pain and abuse he had suffered since then, did nothing but widen that hole. Especially since the events of a few months ago. That was likely the final twist of the knife that would ruin him forever.

 

It was like Ms. Yu had said. He had given up on himself. In fact, it was a conscious decision to wallow in misery because the masochistic, self-hating side of his mind had waved a white flag defeatedly and given up rather than fight. That belief that he had unconsciously adopted - that he was not meant to be happy - came to dictate his life. Perhaps more so than an actual life of misery, it was a life led by him that caused his pain. He had sunken so deep into self hatred that he didn't find himself deserving of resistance, of trying to make a life worth living. It was easier to hate himself and give up, at this point, then it was to try to justify that he deserved happiness. _"People in your life need you."_ That's right, Jeongguk needed him, desperately. He needed him to be the adult, need him to actually take care of him, and Jimin was failing so horribly. In giving up on himself, he had failed Jeongguk.

 

"I know," he replied, voice thick with withheld tears. "I'm sorry." What could he say? He didn't know how to stop, and perhaps he didn't want to yet; the routine of misery was now too familiar to resist. He could understand why he needed too, but he couldn't make that step yet. He couldn't make empty promises that he didn't have the strength to fulfill. 

 

"Just..." the plea was tangible in her voice, and he couldn't look her in the eye. "Please, just take this and think about it," she slipped a yellowed business card into his hand, which he looked down to confusedly.

 

**_Han Center for Recovering Alcoholics_ **

**_Support Group_ **

**_12-3456-7890_ **

 

 

 

Jimin had approximately a three hour break between his morning and evening shift, something that would happen when he opened and closed on the same day. Wasn't really a normal occurrence, but he, out of anyone, experienced it the most out of any server at Ms. Yu's diner. He may be the most troublesome, but he was the best and most skilled waiter to work there.

 

Usually during these breaks he would just go home and take a nap. He would have to return to work soon, so he couldn't engage in any of his unfortunate past times. It was on his way home, walking down the cracked city sidewalk, that he received a call, phone buzzing in the back pocket of his black slacks.

 

"Hello?" he answered politely. It was probably something about work, there was no other reason for someone to call him.

 

"Hello," a deep, sleepy voice replied calmly, "This is Min Yoongi, I'm your son's Literature teacher. I was wondering if it would be possible for you to come in for a meeting. We need to discuss Jeongguk's grades."

 

Grades? That was a surprise. Not that Jimin really kept track of Jeongguk's report cards, Jimin realized guiltily, but he did at least know that Jeongguk had gotten straight A's when his parents were alive, and since then he hadn't heard anything of Jeongguk achieving less. "Oh, um, sure. When would you like me to come in?"

 

"The soonest you are able," the teacher answered. "The grading period ends soon and I'd like to make sure that his final grades don't suffer."

 

Jimin looked down at his watch, "How long do you think the meeting will take?"

 

"I can't see it being longer than thirty minutes."

 

"Then what about now?" he said haphazardly. "I have some time."

 

There was a short pause on the line. "Well, I do have a free period, I suppose. If you can be here in fifteen minutes, then yes, now is possible."

 

"Yeah, the school isn't that far away, I can make it." The school was in fact just a few blocks down from the diner, less than a fifteen minute walk.

 

"Good, I'll see you then," the voice answered briskly.

 

 

 

The school was quite cold, in both temperature and appearance. The people who built it had attempted to create a calm atmosphere by using a color palette consisting of lighter, quieter versions of the school's colors. This however resulted in walls painted with a faded steel blue, a dull green, and a stark white that only made the halls unwelcoming and frigid. It was very large too, the emptiness of the tall ceilings causing the voices of the milling students to echo in a way that seemed lonely. Jimin had to weave through the crowd, uncomfortably touching shoulders with the high schoolers, to find the classroom Min Yoongi had specified. It was not something that Jimin liked to admit, but he was rather short, and it angered him that he had to stretch onto his toes to look around most of the male students. The trip was a bit of a hassle, and Jimin made it with no time to spare.

 

When he walked into the mostly empty classroom, he noticed Jeongguk sitting in a chair pulled up next to the teacher's desk, and said teacher sitting with his head down, focused on something he was writing. The classroom was fairly plain, just a few of those token teacher posters about teamwork and reaching for the stars. The only feature worth notice was the bookcases, messily piled and overflowing with worn paperbacks. Jimin tapped a light knock on the door frame.

 

"Yes?" the man looked up expectantly. His eyes caught Jimin's and for a moment he just stared, mouth slack, until he blinked and this changed to confusion, "Oh, um, can I help you?"

 

Jimin was very attractive, he knew that. He was used to stares, the lustful eyes of both women and men. His jaw was defined but smooth, his lips were full, eyes sharp, and hair brown and soft, parted down the middle. Despite being short, his body was very beautiful too. There was an obvious sensuality to the shape of his legs, the plump slopes of his ass often the subject of unwelcome gropes and slaps. He wasn't really all the surprised that the man stared.

 

His only surprise was that they'd let a faggot - like him - work at this stiff, conservative school.

 

"My name's Jimin. I'm here for the conference," he replied smoothly, pulling one of the chairs away from a desk as he walked and sitting onto it in front of Min Yoongi. "About Jeongguk's grades."

 

"You're Jeongguk's father," the man stated dubiously, looking between the two, Jimin, despite being older, appearing to be the younger of the pair.

 

"No, I'm his brother. But I'm also his guardian."

 

That stopped the man short, and he stole a quick glance at Jeongguk, surprise obvious on his face, "Ah." He seemed to push aside the confusion, electing to sigh and straighten out his papers, "Well, anyway, I'd like to talk to you about Jeongguk's grades." His eyes fell slowly onto Jimin's own, as if he were forcing himself, "Jeongguk has always had pretty good grades, however lately they've really suffered. He isn't very consistent with his homework and he's had a hard time understanding curriculum."

 

Jimin didn't feel disappointment towards Jeongguk, who was eyeing him uncomfortably. Rather, he felt intense shame. He could pinpoint the exact moment that he had really fucked up with Jeongguk and completely burdened him with his problems.

 

"I'm sorry," he apologised. "Maybe I should help him but," he laughed awkwardly, "I'm not all that smart. I didn't even finish high school." And he was too busy drinking himself stupid and fucking random men.

 

The teacher bit his lip, pulling back a grimace. "It might be in your best interest to get a tutor, then, if possible."

 

He wanted to say yes, but waiting on tables barely covered costs as it was. "No, I'm sorry, but we can't afford it," he answered softly, keeping his eyes down.

 

Min Yoongi, Mr. Min he supposed it was, sat quietly for a while, thinking. "I wouldn't mind tutoring Jeongguk myself," he finally spoke, gently. "I tutor a lot of my students and I wouldn't mind helping Jeongguk too." 

 

"But, I can't afford-"

 

"No, you wouldn't pay me," Mr. Min cut him off firmly. "The school encourages me to do this. I get paid well enough as it is." That was true. It may be a public school, but the area was quite wealthy.

 

Jimin sighed. He didn't want to feel like a charity case, but he didn't want to allow Jeongguk's grades to suffer either just because of his own incompetence and extraordinary failure as a guardian. "That would be really really kind of you Mr. Min. Thank you." He felt painfully humble, to the point of being simply ashamed. This was his fault.

 

"It's fine. Now the grading period only has a few weeks left. I'd like to start immediately so we can raise his grade as much as possible." He turned to pointedly took at Jeongguk, "In addition to homework we will be doing as many extra credit assignments as I can get out of you."

 

"Yes, Mr. Min," Jeongguk said quietly, the first time he spoke for the whole meeting. His voice was timid, but not shy. Instead of being embarrassed in front of a teacher, he sounded like he was embarrassed in front of a friend, the timidness a result of personal insecurity rather than social. That peaked Jimin's interest, but he said nothing.

 

Mr. Min smiled kindly at Jeongguk, "You'll be fine Jeongguk, I'm not that worried." He turned back to Jimin, hesitantly, his eyes conveying that while work and lust should never converge, he was struggling with that battle in his own stiff manner. "When is Jeongguk available for tutoring? I currently can't do anything during school hours because of other tutoring engagements, but we could meet at the library or your home if it's close. Whichever makes this more possible because I want to work with him as much as I can. If it is at your home, however, you'd have to be there. Teachers aren't allowed to be alone with students, for reasons I'm sure you can guess."

 

Jeongguk shifted shyly in his seat. Jimin bit the inside of his cheek, thoughtfully. "I don't want Jeongguk walking to the library. We don't live in the nicest of areas, and I wouldn't want him in the streets in the dark. Our house would work, but I'm not sure how late you're willing to come. I'm a waiter so the time I come home changes depending on how busy we are, and sometimes I don't get off until 9pm." 

 

He mulled it over for a bit, eyebrows furrowing. "Well, I'm practically nocturnal anyway," he grumbled. "As long as you're there by 9:30, I don't mind. Any later and we'll just call it off for the day. How's that sound?" 

 

Jimin nodded gratefully. "That sounds great, um, thank you."

 

The teacher nodded gruffly. "Welcome."

 

 

 

They took the bus home together, Jimin still having about two hours before he had to be back. There was still time for a nap.

 

The bus was surprisingly empty, the cold air conditioning puffing loudly into the quiet, making the blue plastic interior feel even more uncomfortable. Through the large windows along the side of the bus, Jimin watched the sun weave in and out of the cracks between buildings, becoming ever the more stronger as the city deteriorated into a less populated, less urban area.

 

"Hyung, I'm sorry you had to come in," Jeongguk apologised awkwardly, his head hanging over his nervous hands. He wasn't scared of Jimin or anything, but ever since he had found Jimin - for who he truly was - he didn't know how to talk to him. He held his brother in some weird convergence of pity and disgust. 

 

"It's alright," he replied woodenly. He didn't know how to salvage this, or if he should even try. He had been managing the depression, the drinking and smoking, to the point that Jeongguk could ignore it. But he was such a fucking trainwreck, falling into these pitfalls of recklessness where feeling better is all that mattered, and he was so consumed in his personal selfishness that nothing else existed. 

 

On one particularly bad night he had gone so far as to bring a man home. Sober he would never have considered it; it had taken a considerable amount of booze and weed for him to forget Jeongguk would eventually be back from his friends house, that he had promised himself to never bring this side of him home. But the addiction spoke louder than any vague thoughts he could muster through the haze, and somehow he found himself in his bedroom with a stranger.

 

_"There baby... oh, fuck. Shit, there, yes," he moaned against the man. Alcohol made him weirdly vocal, despite sex never being good enough for him to actually moan. The headboard of his bed thumped against the wall and the empty glass liquor bottles clinked next to his bed. It was probably loud; he couldn't really tell through the haze of alcohol. In his drunken state he could sense little more than the dick that was rutting him into his bed, missing his prostate every time. What he could sense is that the room stank with the man's sweat as he dripped all over Jimin, panting and fucking into him like some animal. It was revolting, but Jimin had long put away any standards. Cheap, quick orgasms were the name of the game, human decency be fucked._

 

_He continued crying out, now more enjoying the odd, lucid way that his lewd whimpers echoed in his empty house than he was the actual sex. The dirtier the sex felt the more he could pretend that he was actually getting off. The man seemed to be fed by the sounds coming from Jimin's mouth, groaning crude things over him, "Bitch you take my cock so well. That's right, you fucking slut, you're nothing but a whore." The abuse seemed to be getting the man off, but Jimin was sure those words would echo in his head when he was sober and miserable again. If not the man's face, he would remember the dehumanization. At the moment however, he still couldn't muster a single feeling of offense. He didn't care how people treated him, as long as he could fuck._

 

_Eventually, Jimin came, half heartedly as ever. He closed his eyes, sucking out every bit of pleasure his body could muster from the climax. His breath came through his nose deeply, muffled through the comforter and pillows that his face was pressed into. Fucking in his own bed had its benefits, despite the glaring cons; for one the sheets weren't scratchy and they didn't smell like leftover sex from the other various hook ups that had gone down in that trashy motel room._

 

_Out of the corner of his consciousness he heard the front door close. It didn't register._

 

_He allowed the man to continue thumping against his ass until eventually it started to hurt. "Ouch, fuck, stop," he groaned. The man wouldn't stop, mumbling over him, lost in his own world. Words fell forcefully from his lips, calling him a slut and a whore, crude names intended to objectify Jimin further, feed whatever broken ego he was nursing. His asshole was burning painfully now, leg muscles twitching from unwelcome overstimulation. It was not the pleasurable kind, rather it was a intense onslaught of sensations that overwhelmed his body, almost painful and caused him to panic. He tried to pull his head up, but the man simply pushed it down into the bed. "Please, stop! That hurts!" he cried against the pillows. The man pounded harder, in some sick way he found Jimin's cries of pain to be erotic. "Stop, please!" He squirmed trying to move away and the man responded by pushing his head down with more force._

 

_Terror filled his body and he screamed. He felt trapped, unable to move or escape as the man fucked himself into Jimin's now swollen asshole and he sobbed into the sheets. It hurt so bad, and the suffocating fear and anxiety made it all so much worse._

 

_Down the hall he heard footsteps thumping and the door flung open, Jeongguk yelling, "HYUNG!"_

 

_Shock washed over him, sobering him instantly. The room was silent for a split second. Jimin couldn't see his brother, but his gut twisted in horrible, horrible sickness. His little brother, whom he was supposed to protect, now saw him laying pathetically beneath some stranger, crying as he was fucked, in their home. In their home. Mom and dad's home, mom and dad who were dead and had left Jeongguk for Jimin to protect and care for. And he had brought a monster home, more so than the monster above him, the monster that was Jimin's disgusting alter ego._

 

_A scream, melded of something between horror and rage ripped from Jeongguk's body and he flung himself at the man, pushing him off of Jimin. For a moment he couldn't move, couldn't breathe as he was finally free, but it was all moving so fast. So fast, too fast for his shattered mind to handle. The sound of pounding filled the air and Jimin's ears screeched with the rush of everything. It wasn't until he heard a crash that he looked over to see Jeongguk on the floor, eyes closed and Jimin's chair broken, presumably from being assaulted by Jeongguk's tossed body. The man stood above Jeongguk, his eyes bleary from his sex addled, drunken stupor._

 

_"NO!" Jimin shrieked, leaping off the bed, throwing a fist at the man's head._

 

_The man didn't notice Jimin until it was too late, and he fell to the side from the blow, landing on his ass with an angry, "What the fuck?" Reaching out a hand he yanked Jimin down by the leg. His head hit the floor with a thump, and he saw black spots. As he focused on breathing and seeing clearly, he noticed vaguely as the man crouched over him with a cruel grin on his face. He lower his head down to Jimin's ear, whispering, "Let's resume where we left off."_

_Jimin screamed again, his hands flying upwards for purchase against the man's body, any kind of blow he could deliver to get the man off of him. The man just laughed and pushed to realign his cock with Jimin's trembling ass._

 

_Glass shattered and he the man paused. He looked up to see the man pulling away, fear evident on his face, backing against the wall. Behind him a stumbling Jeongguk chased the man with a wickedly sharp broken bottle, running after him and out the bedroom door, roaring. There was a crash of steps as Jeongguk followed him down the stairs screaming threats. He listened for a while, not moving. The door slammed. Silence._

 

_Blessed silence for their house that had just been deafened by screamed and violence. Terror and heartbreak. Jimin had gone too far and he had ruined the last good thing he had in this world._ _He shook against the floor and pressed his tremoring hands to his eyes, sobbing. The hysterics overtook him and he felt tears rip from his body and he slammed his head back onto the floor in a fit of absolute pain and grief. What had he done?_

 

_"Hyung," a broken voice said at the door, and he couldn't bring himself to look. He could hear the raw fear in his little brother's voice, hear the way he cried in silent terror. Footsteps and he felt a blanket fall over him, covering his naked, abused, and fucked out body. His disgusting, shameful body. "Hyung," the voice whispered, next to him. He was hit by just how young that voice was. Jeongguk was still a child. What had he done? What had he done? What had he done?_

 

_His brother's hands removed his own from his eyes, looked down at him. Sick, scared concern was written on his face, and tears streamed out of his eyes. There was blood on his forehead. "Hyung, I'm calling police."_

 

_"No," he choked out, reaching for Jeongguk's arm to stop him from turning away. "No, please."_

 

They rode the bus silently for a while. Guilt was so powerful in his chest, but he wasn't sure how to ease it. There was no way to deal with the horrible trauma that had destroyed them. Jeongguk was so brave and so strong, but somehow Jimin still managed to deeply hurt him, leave injuries in his heart and memory that could never heal.

 

He slipped his hands into his pockets uncomfortably, dipping down his head as a pregnant woman passed by with a smile. Beside him, Jeongguk kept his face on his lap. 

 

Something nicked at Jimin's fingers, insistently as he shuffled his fingers and he pulled it out curiously. It was the help group card, all crisp edges and stiff paper, staring up at him with a vaguely hopeful idea. "Jeongguk," he said, voice small. Why was he talking? "I, uh, I've decided to get help." Was that a lie? He wasn't sure, but perhaps now he had to follow through. The words pressed out of him, a desperate curl in his stomach, begging for any mercy from this painful place they had found themselves in. God, he wanted to die, but now he was making promises to try? Just to attempt to find some forgiveness in the cloud of self hate that had engulfed him?

 

His brother's eyes darted to the card and he scanned it over cautiously. "Ah," he said, cheeks going red. There was something hopeful in his eyes, but majority of him still sat in stagnant mortification. "I'd, um, I'd really like that, hyung." Like him to stop passing out on the couch every night drunk. To stop living like a ghost in the house. To stop ignoring the trauma that had been inflicted on the one trusted to his care because he was to fucked to handle it.

 

He let out a low breath. Maybe he would try. The world felt like it was in a fog, hopeless and endless, but maybe he'd try to push through for once. Maybe he'd do something good for once. He ignored the voice in his mind that laughed at his attempts. Laughed because there could be no good after what he did.

 

_Jimin sat huddled on top of the bare bed, sheets stripped and thrown out, presumably, by Jeongguk. He breathed slowly and stared at the broken chair and glass fragments on his floor. He should probably pick that up._

 

_The spot beside him was warm still from where his brother had slept, holding Jimin. He had wanted to run away from him, tell him how filthy he was. But he was stuck in some sort of daze and he couldn't find it in his body to move. His whole body ached terribly, especially his head. Jeongguk's head probably hurt worse. If he was a good brother he'd get up and take Jeongguk to the hospital._

 

_"Hyung," a voice said softly by the door. His sweet, sweet Jeongguk. His chest throbbed in shame from the strength his brother was showing, pulling himself together for his sake, taking care of his shitty brother when it should be the other way around. This was all Jimin's fault and yet he was allowing Jeongguk to pity and care for him. Worse, with his inability to pull himself together, he was forcing his little brother to step up and take lead despite the pain and horror he just experienced. He was dealing with it all better so much better than Jimin, and he realized, loathing himself, that Jeongguk seemed to be better off without him. He could take care of himself and deal with issues that Jimin couldn't handle; he didn't need him adding to the laundry list of issues either._

 

_His brother spoke again, louder but still as gentle, "Hyung." Jimin didn't move and he sighed. "Hyung I brought you some tea. Try to drink."_

 

_He was so kind. Why was he so kind? What sick joke was it that his brother be so good and he be such a fucking piece of shit? That his brother had to be saddled to trash like him? He had to convey the truth to him, no matter how much it hurt, let him know what he had done. What could hurt more than knowing that his brother thought of him as a victim when in fact he was the root of every single horror he had experienced? The sensation of being so low, so selfish?_

 

_"Jeongguk," he croaked. His brother's head darted up, and he moved to his side, concern set hard on his face, all personal feelings pushed aside. Jimin looked away, unable to meet Jeongguk's eyes. "I-" he whispered, feeling like he might throw up, "I brought him here. I brought that man here myself."_

 

_A gasp and the mug crashed against the ground. It shattered, joining the mess of broken things that was forming at his bedside. The pain in his body increased, and he closed his eyes, tears squeezing out as his stomach ripped in two. Jeongguk ran out of the room. He leaned over and threw up, emptying out everything in his stomach, right down to the acid._

 

_He was wrong. It hurt more._

**Author's Note:**

> sorry about the emo-ness.
> 
> things will get (much) worse before they get (way) better
> 
> XXOO YOU ARE MY BABES, OH 3 PEOPLE WHO WILL END UP READING THIS FIC
> 
> LOVE YA, EFFIE
> 
> ps to the people who know me.. lmao who thought I'd go from fluffy smut and fluffy domestic shit to this? i literally have tae's personality but apparently theres a masochistic twist yum (kill me)


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